


Pirate, Legend, Monster, Man

by KChan88



Series: Sailing By Orion's Star: Deleted Scenes [16]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KChan88/pseuds/KChan88
Summary: Enjolras, Bahorel, and Prouvaire meet Blackbeard for the first time. Featuring a small appearance by Courfeyrac.





	Pirate, Legend, Monster, Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was my small contribution for Les Mis Across History on Tumblr!

The crowd in the tavern roars when the door opens, the sound echoing outside into the night.

“Say what’s going on?” Bahorel asks, searching through the crowd, eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Why are they cheering?”

“That Teach fellow came in,” Enjolras says, the view better from his standing position. People are clapping Teach on the back as he approaches the bar, his mentor Benjamin Hornigold following behind him with another man. Stede Bonnet, Enjolras thinks he’s called, but he’s new around Nassau.

“That  _Teach_  fellow,” Bahorel says, aghast at Enjolras’ casual tone. “Show some respect, Enjolras, that man’s a legend. Quickly becoming one, anyway. Blackbeard, the papers are calling him.”

“Sounds like you’ve taken a fancy to him, Bahorel,” Prouvaire says, smirking as he takes a sip of his mead. “Want to set your beard on fire as well?”

“Never,” Bahorel says, swatting at him. Prouvaire slides out of the line of attack, not spilling a drip of his drink. “Can’t grow mine that long anyway, Fantine says it scratches when I kiss her.”

“You are considerate,” Enjolras says, dry, an echo of Combeferre in his voice.

“All I’m saying is the man does his job well,” Bahorel says. “I respect him a hell of a lot more than that Charles Vane. That man likes blood on his hands, sometimes. Teach knows how to take a ship without firing shot.”’

“Funnily enough, I have a hell of a lot more respect for myself than Vane also,” a deep, resonant voice says behind them, making Bahorel give an uncharacteristic jolt in his seat. Enjolras suppresses a chuckle and then looks up at Teach, seeing a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Edward Teach,” Teach says, putting his hand out toward Bahorel, who takes it, wide-eyed with surprise. “And you’re Eli Bahorel, aren’t you? The master gunner on Valjean’s new ship. The uh…” he snaps his fingers, searching for the word.

“ _Liberte_ ,” Bahorel finishes for him. “That’s me, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The same to you,” Teach says. “I overheard the talk about the beard. I could teach you, if you like. It’s a new trick, I haven’t perfected it, fair warning.”

“I don’t think I can grow my beard like that,” Bahorel says, oddly nervous, and he smacks Prouvaire successfully this time when his voice goes up an octave. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“And who’s your friend here?” Teach asks, gesturing at Prouvaire.

“Co master gunner, Mr. Blackbeard sir,” Prouvaire says, suddenly nervous himself, but he puts his hand out, shaking Teach’s firmly. “And master of reconnaissance, also.”

“Ah,” Teach says. “You were the ones who found out about the spy being sent to Nassau, weren’t you? I was new to the island then, but we were all impressed. Even old Hornigold, who is difficult to impress.”

Something rumbles in Teach’s voice, an irritation he can’t cut out. Enjolras’ eyes rove over to Hornigold; it’s common knowledge that many of his men are growing frustrated with his distaste for attacking British ships. Enjolras clenches his fist at the mention of the spy, recalling how his stomach swooped when he saw Javert in this very tavern that night. Here, in Nassau, where Enjolras certainly never expected to see him.

“And you must be the new captain of the  _Liberte_ ,” Teach says, noticing the miniscule movement. “Enjolras, wasn’t it?”

“René Enjolras,” Enjolras answers, putting out his hand. Teach meets his eyes with interest, not commenting on the last name, but Enjolras senses he recognizes it. Out in the world, people know him as the Avenging Angel, and he’d never breathe his name aloud. But here on Nassau, he can’t bear to tell a lie. The place is too sacred, too special, for not bearing the truth of himself fully. “I have a great respect for your work, Captain Teach.”

“And I have a great respect for your mentor,” Teach says. “Valjean was here long before so many of the rest of us, and he’s kept at it, hasn’t he?”

“Always,” Enjolras answers, fondness running through his tone.

“You’re quite young aren’t you?” Teach says, tilting his head, interested. “You and that Sam Bellamy, with your charm.”

“Enjolras has the mind of a sage,” Prouvaire says, and Enjolras blushes, shaking his head. “Wise beyond his years.”

“You give me too much credit,” Enjolras says.

“You took down the  _HMS Endeavour_ , didn’t you?” Teach asks in challenge. “Overpowering a ship of the British Royal Naval fleet is no small feat, lad.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Enjolras protests. “We were with the  _Misericorde_ , and I had the help of my crew.”

“Lord,” Bahorel says, swinging an arm around Enjolras’ shoulder. “What he means to say is thank you. Take a compliment, Enjolras.”

“My apologies,” Enjolras says, fighting off a smile.

“That day will make you as famous as your mentor,” Teach says. “They’re calling you the…Avenging Angel, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” Enjolras mutters as Bahorel cracks up laughing, letting him go.

“Take the name with pride,” Teach says. “That way when people hear it, they won’t fire back.”

“I would if it sounded less ridiculous,” Enjolras complains. “At least yours makes sense.”

“Ah well,” Teach says, smirking. “You do look a bit like the paintings of angry archangels in the cathedrals in Europe. So I find it fitting. Good day, lads. I’ve some beer to drink before we plot our next voyage. I’ve got a ship I’d like to steal out from under England whether old Ben likes it not. I think I’ll call her the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_.”

He tips his hat at them then goes without another word, leaving Bahorel shrieking with laughter at Enjolras’ expression.

“Wait just a moment!” Courfeyrac exclaims, walking up toward them, mouth hanging open. “Was that Teach?  _The_ Edward Teach.”

“Yes,” Enjolras says, short.

“What’s the matter?” Courfeyrac asks, confused. “What’s the matter with your face, why are you frowning?”

Bahorel, still laughing, doesn’t answer, so Prouvaire provides instead, looking apologetically at Enjolras.

“Teach told Enjolras he looks like an angry archangel,” Prouvaire says, a smile flickering on his lips.

“Oh,” Courfeyrac says, clapping Enjolras on the back. “Well if Blackbeard told  _me_ I looked like an angry archangel I’d take it as a compliment.”

“All right all right,” Enjolras says, shaking his head, relenting. “I’ll give the name some credit. I just have to get used to hearing it.”

Courfeyrac starts peppering them with questions, and Enjolras looks across the tavern toward the bar where Teach sits with some of his men, his laughter booming out across the room. Here, he’s not one of the most renowned pirates in the Caribbean, followed around by tales of his exploits and overdramatic stories about his smoking beard, used to frighten children. Here, he’s just a man and not a monster at all, even if the outside world might call him one. The sort of legend Enjolras would have read about as a boy on those dark nights in Port Royal, when everything was wrong.

Enjolras catches Teach’s eye, and smiles.

Teach winks back.


End file.
